This time, he could not prepare. Anything he did would be washed away by the first sight of her. For the first time he could remember, he went to a meeting completely cold. And this was in all probability the most important meeting he would ever attend. The future of the human race might depend upon it.
He reached the door, and breathed out slowly. Morishi was on guard there. A good man. Efficient.
"She is waiting for you, sir."
"Good. As soon as the door is closed, deactivate all recording equipment, visual and audio. Employ full precautions against listening devices. No one is to enter that room until I leave, for any reason. No one is to try to contact me while I am in that room, for any reason. Not even the President."
Morishi looked troubled. These precautions were not unheard of, but they were rare.
"She will not be able to hurt me," Welles said, in what he hoped was a reassuring voice. "She is secured to her chair?"
"Yes, sir."
"There, you see. She cannot move, and she would be too weak to put up a fight even if she could."
"Yes, sir. Your instructions will be followed."
"Good." Welles turned to the door, and breathed out again. He raised his palm to the scanner and typed in a quick six-digit code. Few people knew it was his wife's date of birth.
The door opened and he stepped inside. The door closed immediately behind him, but he did not notice. As soon as he stepped into the room, Delenn of Mir looked up, and the instant her deep green eyes hit him, he could see nothing else.
* * *
Consciousness and rational thought returned to Sinoval the instant he heard the Vorlon's cry of one single word.
Ignoring the pain of his multitude of injuries he leapt to his feet, momentarily surprised to see himself outside the Starfire Wheel. He looked into it, and saw the Primarch's form change. One moment he was the same tall, old, dignified and wise humanoid being he had always been. A heartbeat later, he was.... many things. He was knowledge, and power, and wisdom, and sorrow, and regret and.... memory.
The Starfire Wheel slid open its final notch, and there was a blaze of light and heat. There was a scream that ended suddenly, and then there was nothing.
There was stillness. The Wheel was closed. Of the Vorlon and the Primarch, there was no sign.
Reeling with what he had just seen, Sinoval turned to the Soul Hunters emerging from the shadows. "Did you catch it?" he asked. The Primarch was.... gone. Sherann was.... dead. This had to have been for something.
"Did you save it?"
One of them, one who looked older than the others, held up a glowing, golden orb. Sinoval could clearly see the thrashing form of the Vorlon within it.
He closed his eyes and sank wearily to the floor, not from the pain of his wounds, but from the realisation of what he had done and what it had cost. He raised his hand and clenched it into a fist, trembling slightly.
Then he opened his eyes and rose, walking to the place where Sherann's body lay. He looked at the terrible wound in her chest, and sighed softly. Her eyes, filled with blood, seemed to be accusing him. He closed them gently, not wishing to see them any longer.
He then turned, and found that all the Soul Hunters, including his guards and the one with the Vorlon's soul....
All of them were kneeling.
"What are you doing?" he asked. Some sort of mourning ritual?
"We are swearing fealty," said the one with the soul globe. "We are swearing fealty to our new Primarch Majestus et Conclavus."
Chapter 4
"It has been a while."
Welles' tone was as casual as he could make it. He could have been talking to an old friend he had not seen for years. He was not.
Slowly he approached the table at the centre of the room and sat down, not taking his eyes away from the woman before him. She was seated in a chair very similar to his, but there were strong clasps fixing her wrists and ankles to it. Neither seat was very comfortable.
"Still," he said, continuing. "It is good to have you back. I hope your accommodation is.... satisfactory."
Delenn nodded slowly. "There is no need for the.... small talk, Mr. Welles," she said in her beautifully accented voice. "We can proceed to business whenever you wish. I am.... ready."
He did not reply immediately, choosing instead to look at her. She was very different from before. When he had first seen her three years ago she had been fully Minbari, an alien to him, filled with her own mannerisms and habits. The little signs that he could read in humans had not been there in her, and it had bothered him, but not unduly. He had adapted.
And then she had changed. He remembered the last time he had seen her, a twisted hybrid of human and Minbari, her wide headbone split open to reveal a tail of hair, her features distorted. He had never been entirely sure of the details of what she had gone through, but he knew that it had been.... interrupted somehow.
Looking at her now, he realised that the transformation had been completed. She was now the best of both human and Minbari. Her eyes shone with wisdom and compassion and pity.
He sat forward, resting his elbows on the table and steepling his fingers as was his habit. He seemed to be drowning in those green eyes, but they were not critical or accusatory as he had expected. They were.... patient, resigned. She expected her fate.
"Do you know what is to happen to you?" he asked at last. She blinked, once.
"I was led to believe I would not be told. Ignorance is.... a potent weapon, I believe."
"True, in some cases. On the other hand, that is not an issue here. You are an intelligent person. I am sure you have been able to work out what will happen to you."
"I will be.... killed, or maybe put on trial. Probably tortured."
"The second. A trial for war crimes. The exact charges haven't been worked out yet, but they will be. The President was throwing around various ideas. Mass murder of noncombatants, torture of prisoners, use of illegal technology."
"The Minbari never signed any treaties regarding the use of technology," she said flatly. Welles sighed.
"True, in a legal sense, but it sounds more impressive when you list these things in threes, and the President could only think of two. It doesn't matter anyway. By the time you take the stand you'll confess to anything we want you to. You'll admit to mass murder, torture, sedition, treason, anything we care to name."
"Mr. Welles, I will tell the truth. I will admit the things I have done, but I will not lie. I did not come here to lie."
Come here? Implying a degree of free choice? Welles shook his head. "You have no idea what I have been told to do to you. I.... am more than capable of torturing people, both physically and psychologically. It is not something I am proud of, but it is a necessity in the service of my people, and like all things I do I endeavour to do it well."
"I.... am not.... afraid."
"Oh? I am." He rose to his feet. "Please do not lie to me. I really do not like it, and I am in a situation where I really need to hear the truth. I have been ordered to torture you, to break you, to.... No, you do not want to know.
"For the past two years I have been trying to stop the madness that is claiming us all. I have tried, and I have failed. I don't know what Clark is planning, but between him and those.... Shadows, I am afraid there won't be another human being left alive in this galaxy by the end of the century. We made the alliance with the Shadows initially to safeguard our holdings, and to protect our people."
Softly: "I know."
"But then it became a matter of taking back what was ours, taking the war to the enemy, preventing ourselves from being threatened again." He began to walk around the room, his hands behind his back. "And now it's.... what? I don't know. We're being pushed into war again, against someone we have no reason to fight, for an aim that's not even ours. Humanity is finally safe again, for the first time since we met you, and that madman up there is planning to plunge us into another bloody war!
"I.... cannot ac
t alone in this. I do not know whether Clark is mad, a megalomaniac, a puppet or what, but he must be stopped, and I cannot do that alone." He stopped next to Delenn and knelt down beside her. "How do I contact G'Kar?"
"What?"
"Please. He knows more about the Shadows than almost anyone else. He has the power structure to help me. He can help me, I am sure of it. Where is he?"
"Kazomi Seven," she replied. "He and the Rangers are working with the Alliance."
Welles bowed his head. "Damn.... Well, that makes him the enemy.... Hah! And I really thought...."
"He is not your enemy."
"He's with the Alliance, and Clark's pushing us to war with them. That makes him my enemy. No offence, but we've spent too long at war with aliens to believe in any chance of.... peaceful negotiations during wartime. Damn." He shook his head.
"Mr. Welles," she said, softly. He looked up. "I came here willingly. I could have gone elsewhere. I could have returned to Kazomi Seven, to my friends, to.... I chose to come here. Fifteen years ago I made a mistake, and I helped create the evil in your society that you hope to fight. I came here to try to undo that."
"How? By becoming a martyr?" The blood drained from his face. "That's it? You were going to become a martyr.... You were willing to give your life.... why?"
"I will be given a trial, yes? It will be in public, to display your.... 'victory' over me. I will have the chance there to say.... to say sorry."
He rose to his feet again, and continued walking. "Yes, you will be.... but not for a while. Clark wants me to take my time. Medical tests first, and so on. He's given me complete authority to look after you. Maybe.... maybe there is still hope.
"Help me! Help me depose Clark, help me get rid of the Shadows and talk to the Alliance. Someone there must be willing to see sense and talk to me."
"What do you plan to do?"
"I don't know. If.... no, when.... there is war with the Alliance, I'll need someone to speak up for us to them. I don't know your military might, but we have the Shadows. With them.... maybe we can win. Without them, we don't have a chance. If I get rid of the Shadows somehow.... then I'll need someone to speak to the Alliance and convince them that humanity isn't the enemy, Clark is.
"I'll need you."
"I came to try to.... do something to purge the darkness within humanity, the darkness I put there."
"It was always there, Delenn. Do not blame yourself for merely bringing to the fore what was already present."
"If I can do anything to purge that, anything to help.... then I shall."
"Good." He sat down, almost giddy. "I need to talk to some people, find out certain things, have a look at some reports. You've got to go for medical tests first anyway. I'll make sure they.... take a while. There isn't war yet. We have time."
"Anything I can do to help.... I will. I believe in you, Mr. Welles. You are not an evil man."
"You have no idea.... Anyway, there's no such thing as good or evil, there's just us. We're all evil. I must go. I'll come back later. Are you comfortable? Do you need anything?"
"I have not eaten or drunk anything for days, but I will endure."
"Right. Try to sleep, if you can. I would undo those straps, but.... Be strong, Delenn. I think you will have an unpleasant few weeks."
"I will endure. I will have to."
"Good." He nodded, as he left. "Good."
* * *
Minbari do not kill Minbari.
An old law, a thousand years old. Valen had instituted it. He had said it was necessary for the war, and for its aftermath. Minbari should fight the Enemy, not each other.
Minbari do not kill Minbari.
Sinoval stood alone on the pinnacle of Cathedral, a glittering array of stars laid out around him, above and below. He felt he could take a step forward and throw himself into space. It would not work like that, of course. This was an image, no more real than the holographic imaging devices used in his warships.
Stormbringer lay in his hands. It looked still now, no more than a simple weapon. Sherann's blood was slowly drying across the silvery blackness of its blade. He had not been able to clean it.
Minbari do not kill Minbari. Sinoval was a warrior, he had always known he would have to kill, but he would do so for his people. He was their defender, their protector.
He had killed two of his people, not in the heat of conflict, but in cold-blooded murder. Shakiri's death had been.... necessary. He was leading the Minbari down a dark and perilous road, and he had to be stopped. Sinoval had killed him as he lay in his bed, recovering from injuries. Shakiri's eyes had opened, and in a split second he had realised what was going to happen.
"Proud of you," he had whispered.
Sinoval had killed him, and not thought about the matter for years.
He would not be able to forget Sherann so easily. His blood had been boiling with rage and fury and pain and the heat of battle, but he had made that decision entirely in cold blood. He had damned himself. It had been the Vorlon's trap, but Sinoval had sprung it upon himself, walking into it willingly.
It had cost the Primarch his life. Apparently Cathedral was now Sinoval's, and for the first time in his life he had no idea what to do.
"Maudlin thoughts, my friend," said a voice, and he turned. A figure ascended the final step to the top of the pinnacle, and the summit seemed to widen, allowing enough space for the two of them. The newcomer pushed back his hood and the ancient, wise gaze of the Primarch Majestus et Conclavus looked at him.
"You are dead," Sinoval whispered softly. "I saw the Starfire Wheel take you."
"I am dead, yes. My flesh is dead, my soul.... has gone elsewhere."
"You do not save the souls of your own."
"No, such is our punishment. The gift of immortality that we provide to others is denied us. Save for me. Such is my punishment. I am.... of Cathedral now. I am as much a part of it as its stones and towers and turrets and battlements. Cathedral has allowed me.... a little longer to explain matters to you. We will not speak again after this."
Sinoval reached forward to touch his companion. His hand passed straight through the figure before him. "A ghost."
"Not a ghost. A revenant. A memory, perhaps. This form would be.... easier for you. Cathedral could choose others."
"You speak as if Cathedral is alive."
"It is, in a sense. Is your body alive? Of course it is, and yet what is it that gives your body life? What is it that animates a wall of flesh and bone and blood? Your soul. Cathedral is the body which protects and feeds the Well of Souls. In every way that counts, Cathedral is alive."
"Then why has Cathedral let you come back?"
"To explain matters to you. There are things you must know now that you were not ready to know before. You must know of our oath, our sacred and binding duty. You must know our secrets, for you will guide us now. You will carry on my role."
"I'm not the Primarch Majestus et Conclavus. Surely there is someone in your order who can be promoted?"
"It is not a matter of 'promotion'. Cathedral has chosen you. It chose you the instant you came here. Before then, even."
Sinoval sighed. "I am not worthy. Choose another."
"You are worthy, and there is no need to choose another. I must tell you so much, so that you may understand. Your predecessor, the first Primarch Nominus et Corpus.... he thought he understood, but he did not. He thought he could abide by our vows, but he did not. He fell, thousands of years ago. We were too eager to interpret our part in our prophecies. We were determined to wait, and not to make the same mistakes as in the past."
"Who are you?"
"We are the lost, we are the damned, the oath-breakers.
"At the beginning of time there was one race born of the universe, the first race, the first of the First Ones. The first of these were born naturally immortal. The wheel of time did not touch them, they lived and did not grow old. Oh, injury or sickness could claim them, but not time.
"Then some
thing changed, and later generations began to die. They had been caught by time, and been bound within it. No one knew why this was so, and in panic they went to the first and asked him why they were dying. He said.... he said that it was the universe's way. To appreciate life, it must be finite. There must be borders, and limitations.
"There must be mortality.
"We did not accept that, and we began to research ways to live on. Time passed, and each new generation of scientists and philosophers and magi and scholars grew filled with terror at the thought of passing beyond, of dying. All the while, the first watched us disapprovingly. He warned us that what we were trying to do was wrong. We thought he did not want to share his immortality with us, and so we pressed on the harder. We became obsessed with death.
"Finally, we managed to isolate the soul. It was the body which grew old and died. The soul would not, not while there was a body to support it. We began to capture the souls of the dying, placing them in globes to keep them alive and conscious while we worked at stopping the process of time. We thought.... there would come a time when we could recreate the bodies of the flesh, and implant in them the souls we had saved.
"Our knowledge became vast. We lived a long time, by the standards of your race, and this took many millennia. We had all the knowledge of the past to call upon, and so we continued to work. Immortality was drawing closer to us now. Oh, we had eternal life of a sort, the souls preserved within the globes and laid within vast walls, that they might commune in death as they had in life.
"Finally we found the way to return the soul to the body, and we recreated the prison of flesh, restoring to life our oldest and greatest leader. We watched as his new form trembled and arose, as light came to his eyes. Our wonder.... We had triumphed. We had turned back death.
"The first came to us that night, with all those who were left. There were still a few of those who had been born immortal, and with the passage of time many had turned their backs on this quest and accepted their mortality. They urged us to stop this. We were not meant to be immortal. We were never meant to defy death.
A Dark, Distorted Mirror. Volume 4. A Future, Born in Pain addm-4 Page 27